Intoxicated | Ponyboy Curtis

8

I opened my eyes the next morning, nearly still passed out on the front lawn, with Dallas Winston peering over me. His head just barely blocked the direct sunlight, and I squinted to get a better look.

"Hey, kid." He said, nudging me with his foot. "You alive?"

I sighed, shutting my eyes once again.

"Just barely."

"Ah, come on." he said, reaching out a hand for me to grab. I did so, and he lifted me up to my feet. I let out a groan, feeling every muscle in my body aching all at once.

"I won't tell your brother. You're lucky I found you before he did, or else you woulda had some sense knocked into you. I should do it, but you probably ain't worth the energy." He smirked, chewing loudly on a piece of gum.

"I think I'm allowed to do whatever I want, Dal. I'm practically an adult." I responded.

"Just cause you have sex with your girlfriend and then black out in your front yard doesn't make you any more grown. The day you've seen half of what I've seen, maybe I'll give you a pass.

But hey, who am I to try and judge ya for how you try to kill your sadness? Least you ain't dead."

I scoffed. Unfortunately.

He gave me a strong pat on my shoulder then walked up the sidewalk to our front door.

Tilting my head back and looking back up at the sun, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

•

Later that day, I made my way back to the DX like I did yesterday, and sat on the curb out front.

I heard the bell above the door ring and out walked Soda, ruffling up his too-perfect hair.

"Hey Pony, what you got goin' on today?" He asked, placing himself beside me.

"Don't know, might take Layla out to a movie."

"How are things goin' with you two?"

I paused for a second, trying to think of the right words to say. But I couldn't.

"Things are goin, just goin." I said. I could see Soda frown out of the corner of my eye, but I brushed it off.

After a few minutes of silence, Soda started to stand up.

"Well, Pony, I'll talk to-"

"Do you think it hurts?" I interrupted. He stopped, and I could tell he was probably confused. Just as I am, every single day.

"Do I think what hurts?" He asked.

I looked up at him.

"Dying."

His face scrunched up, and I could tell he was pretending to actually ponder my question.

"What are you on about now?" He pushed, but that didn't answer my question. So I stood up, and dusted off the back of my jeans.

"I don't know. Just plain old curiosity, I guess" I shrugged. I left it at that, and walked away, ignoring the sudden look of worry on my brother's face.

It wasn't just curiosity.